


You're Not Going without Me

by huntress-of-velaris (shadowhuntress)



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, post-eos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 21:13:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhuntress/pseuds/huntress-of-velaris
Summary: Aelin forges the lock, but at a terrible price.





	You're Not Going without Me

**Author's Note:**

> For maximum angst, listen to this while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAUmjE9qMEc.

Aelin illuminates the darkness of the mountain pass like a burning star, her fire so bright it is the palest gold. All around them, the battle dies as soldiers from both sides turn away from the searing, blinding light. But some––the ones who know the source of that glittering, golden light––still look on.

Air rushes inward toward Aelin and Erawan, pulling all manner of the dark lord’s evil creatures to them like a great swirling vortex. Shrieks, snarls, and inhuman cries rent the air. A deafening roar shakes the mountains, and the strengthening vortex is a constant _tug_ that threatens to draw everything into it, pulling tighter and tighter and tighter…

And then––nothing.

Silence.

Soldiers turn to find their enemies vanished into thin air.

And there, in the center of the battlefield, the golden-haired young queen lies still as death, a dulled amulet resting in her open, ash-smeared palm.

Someone steps forward from the crowd, silver hair shining in the growing light of dawn. Rowan moves toward Aelin as if pulled by the tugging of an invisible rope. The ancient sword in his hand––Goldryn, her final gift to him––slips from his grasp and falls heavily to the ground as he nears her. He soon follows, dropping to his knees at her side, breathing raggedly.

He slips an arm under her back, his other hand moving to cradle her head. He pulls her to his chest and begins to rock her slowly. He pushes away the thought––buries it deep, deep, _deep_ ––of how light she feels in his arms, as if the very essence of her has flown away. He doesn’t allow himself to think about how he cannot feel her breath warm his chest. He doesn’t allow himself to think about the cursed amulet that slipped from her hand when he lifted her into his embrace. He doesn’t allow himself to accept what that amulet represents, what it means his wife, his queen, his _mate_ has done…

“Fireheart,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. He stares down at her and wills himself to believe she is only sleeping, her body exhausted from the use of her magic and simply needing rest to replenish the well.

But the young queen doesn’t stir. Her chest does not rise and fall. Her eyes do not flicker behind their lids. Her lips do not part to murmur his name in response.

The silver-haired princes presses a kiss to her forehead.

“You are not going without me,” he says.

Beneath his skin, his magic thrums, building to a final crescendo. And when it envelopes them both––the fire queen who burned too bright for this world and the Fae prince who loved her––Rowan welcomes the icy embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Come fangirl with me on tumblr (https://huntress-of-velaris.tumblr.com)! :)


End file.
